The Wheatgrass Romance Theory
by idolsidle
Summary: Because of his inability to choose a single bed partner, they'd deduced that the first person to ever make Jet lose the wheatie would be the one he'd end up marrying. AU.


_**So this is a thing that I did. And then edited. This is the edited version.**_

_**Meh, we'll see what happens**_

* * *

_**JetkoJetkoJetkoJetkoJetkoJetkoJetko**_

Jet didn't like a lot of people: assholes (though even he knew he could be one himself), nice people (because he said they were pushovers, but that really just meant that he worried about them surviving out in the shitty world), postmen (Jet was convinced they read people's mail), teachers (what could they honestly teach him?), authority figures (no surprise there), rich people (they never seemed to share their wealth) and baristas (they were shifty looking, apparently) were just a few of his blacklisted persons. He also didn't like what he called "normal" people.

It was certainly true that their gang of friends was a diverse and eclectic group, certainly not what most would call normal. What reunited them was mainly respect for Jet, who made their otherwise dismal lives a bit brighter with all the shenanigans he dragged them into around the school they attended and the city in general.

Smellerbee smirked lightly thinking of all the crazy shit they'd gotten up to. They'd been in some pretty tight spots before, with the cops and more often than not the school's janitor. But they all kept going. She personally enjoyed escaping her assholian parents, while Longshot and The Duke appreciated the break from their not exactly ideal foster homes. All of them had a reason to stick with Jet and his mad schemes, and the fact remained that he was a good friend and a charismatic leader.

The only things about him that were truly annoying sometimes, were the cocky attitude, his slight paranoia, his habit of sleeping around - and that damn piece of wheatgrass that was forever stuck in his smirking mouth.

They had a theory about this particular permanent addition to his personal space. Because of his inability to choose a single bed partner, they'd deduced that the first person to ever make Jet lose the wheatie would be the one he'd end up marrying.

Bee and the gang had told him about the theory once or twice, teasing him because they knew that behind his reckless, rebellious attitude, he was all for the married life. But even they hadn't _seriously_ considered the sappy, romantic notion... until the new boy showed up.

_**JetkoJetkoJetkoJetkoJetkoJetkoJetko**_

They'd been lounging in front of the school one morning, contemplating whether to go to class or not. Pipsqueak and The Duke were all for leaving, but Longshot retaliated with a sharp look, telling them all that he actually _wanted_ to go to his first period class. Smellerbee regarded him fondly and was in danger of smiling goofily at him when the loud roaring of a motorcycle split the air, and a jet-black bike sped around the corner, coming to a clean stop in an open space on the opposite side of the parking lot. The rider dismounted and took off his helmet. Shaggy black hair and pale skin and something obscuring his face gave them a small idea of what he looked like.

He entered the school a moment later.

Jet was sneering by the time the motorcyclist had passed through the doors. His eyes flicked to the bike, which was shiny and looked high quality and new. Not to mention expensive.

Smellerbee and Longshot exchanged a glance. Jet had a habit of forming opinions about people pretty fast. It looked like he already had one in mind for the newcomer, based only on his method of transportation.

Longshot cast her a look. _10$ says Jet corners the guy by the end of the day_.

Bee glanced at Jet. His eyes were still on the stupid motorcycle.

"It appears we have a new student." He said slowly, his voice promising shit for the new kid as he started towards the school.

Bee shook her head in Longshot's direction. No way was she taking a bet she was sure she'd lose.

Looked like skipping school was now out of the question.

_**JetkoJetkoJetkoJetkoJetkoJetkoJetko**_

Between first period and lunch, they found out ample things about the new kid. Of course, the only facts that they could trust were that his name was Zuko, he didn't talk much, and that he had a wicked burn scar on the left side of his face.

They saw the scar during third period, when they discovered they shared their english literature class with the boy. Even the unflappable Longhsot's eyes widened at the sight of it.

Jet promptly parked himself in a seat next to the boy. Bee resisted the urge to facepalm as Jet pointed at the scar.

"Dude, you, uh, have something on your face."

Sneers opened his mouth; Jet was pushing it, they all knew it, but he closed it a second later. When Jet decided he didn't like somebody, it was best to just stay out of the way. Jet was being a dick, no doubt, but they didn't particularly care about the new boy's welfare, so they would let Jet have free reign. He wouldn't do him any physical harm.

The new kid's good eye narrowed to the same size as the scarred one. "Really? I had no idea." Sarcasm coated every word.

Jet raised his eyebrows. The wheatgrass was displaced to the corner of his mouth as he prepared to drop some kind of snark.

The teacher interrupted him and the scarred boy turned away disinterestedly, ignoring Jet completely. Jet's eyes flashed.

Oh shit.

Longshot quirked an eyebrow and Bee had to agree. There was no way Jet was letting this go now.

_**JetkoJetkoJetkoJetkoJetkoJetkoJetko**_

The next few weeks were an eternal, exhausting, and one-sided pissing match between Jet and the black-haired boy. Jet seemed to determined to get the boy to prove he was at least one of Jet's types of blacklisted people. Unfortunately for both parties, no proof was ever given. This only madeJjet try harder. The boy on the other hand was trying his best to ignore Jet completely, which didn't seem to be something he was particularly gifted at.

It became evident in the first week that the scarred boy could be a bit of a hothead. He usually managed to ignore Jet in the morning, though his fists and jaw clenched further every time Jet made some comments. By the end of the afternoon, Jet often go the satisfaction of flashing narrowed eyes and a raised, raspy, and utterly annoyed voice.

During the third week, Smellerbee realized that Jet had never again mentioned the scar.

By the fourth week, all of them were taking bets on when they would come to blows.

Their money was still sitting patiently in The Duke's locker when, halfway through the sixth week, the scarred boy seemed to develop an immunity to Jet's crap. They theorized that his stamina had been built up after weeks of trying to ignore their leader.

Disappointingly, that seemed to end the show. Jet was still trying, but there was little to no reaction. Nothing exciting anyway. At least, not until the ninth week.

_****__**JetkoJetkoJetkoJetkoJetkoJetkoJetko**_

The scarred boy had been by his motorbike, getting ready to leave the school when Jet had seen him and walked over, the gang following him at a slow pace. Smellerbee blew her bangs out of her face. Jet's current obsession was honestly getting _boring_.

Jet had reached the motorcycle and had been going on about respect, something about the boy's habit of not eating lunch in the cafeteria and thinking he was too good for it. Longshot twitched his lower lip. Bee nodded. Jet was kind of scraping the bottom of the barrel at this point.

His rant continued and Bee hadn't been paying attention because she had honed in on the boy's odd gold coloured eyes. They appeared to be darting in all different directions. After a minute, she figured out that he was watching the movements of Jet's wheatie as it waved around in his blathering mouth. She choked back her laughter.

Then several things happened all at once. Zuko's arm twitched upwards, as if to knock the vegetation out of Jet's mouth. In the next instant, out of nowhere, the wheatie caught on fire. Jet yelped and leapt back as the grass _fell from his mouth._

Every single one of their minds went straight to the "wheatie romance" theory, just as their eyes all landed on the lighter in Zuko's hand. Flicking it off and stowing it in the pocket of his black jeans, he mounted the bike and reached for his helmet.

"Just so you know, it's _disrespectful_ to talk with your mouth full." He stated calmly, revving the engine and speeding off.

_**JetkoJetkoJetkoJetkoJetkoJetkoJetko**_

Sneers was the first to say something.

"Jet, you lucky dog! He looks like he'll be a stallion in the sack!"

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**A/N I've always wanted someone to rid jet of the wheatgrass in his mouth. And so my mad brain formulated the "wheatie romance" theory, which can be applied to any ship, but I've done it here for Jetko, a ship I largely appreciate for its sheer hotness. ****And did you see what I did at the end there, finally using Zuko's actual name? You probably didn't, because I'm not nearly as clever as I'd like to think.**


End file.
